When The World Disappears
by ironhawkofmishchief
Summary: With months of no cases to solve, what will happen between Sherlock and John? (no sex, heavy drug use, torture, abuse, and overdosing)
1. I'm not an Addict

When The World Disappears

Description: With months of no cases to solve, what will happen between Sherlock and John? (no sex, heavy drug use, torture, abuse, and overdosing)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or BBC Sherlock this is purely fanmade.

I would also love to thank my beta reader M.L. She is awesome and amazing and I wouldn't be posting it if she wasn't betaing this!

Chapter – 1 I'm not an Addict

_The deeper you stick it in your vein_

_The deeper the thoughts, there's no more pain_

_I'm in heaven, I'm a god_

_I'm everywhere, I feel so hot_

He was starting to drive him mad. The proclaimed genius slash consulting detective was going up the walls like a cat in heat due to no cases in months. John had done his best to try and get cases from the Detective Inspector, but nothing that terrible had happened in three months, at least nothing anyone could handle without Sherlock.

John even did his best to get fake cases; wild goose chases if you will. Though, the consulting detective always seemed to figure it out one way or another. Of course, at first Sherlock would be incredibly excited when he got the call for something, but once they were out in the field, he would realize it was a fake and get just as upset. So upset, Sherlock was starting to throw tantrums. His tantrums were normal but these were getting worse: increasingly so. Even when he played his violin, things seemed to be going wrong. The once beautiful notes that came from the expensive violin were now harsh, loud, and off-key.

"Would you just knock it off already you git!?" John groaned as he came from the kitchen with their take away meal and some tea. Sherlock was in the midst of running the bow roughly over the violin. It was apparent he wasn't even trying anymore, and god knows how many sets of strings he had broken. Thankfully, Sherlock's brother, Mycroft was nice enough to buy replacements.

"Knock what off John? The playing the violin or do you mean the need for a case?" Sherlock shot back as he glared with icy eyes. He slowly sat the violin down and started to pace. "Three months, two days, 20 hours since my last case to solve! Unless you count the wild goose chases you were trying to pull off. Honestly John, do you really think I am that dimwitted? Of course I would figure out they were a farce!" He snapped.

The last ditch attempt to help get Sherlock's mind off of no big hits was just the other day, and Sherlock was still pouting and grumbling about it. "Oh come on now, come eat." John grumbled as he pushed the food towards the man. Sherlock stopped and looked down at the food curiously. His favorite Chinese take away. They always got the same thing, but he never really saw any issue with that. He got the beef and broccoli while John preferred orange chicken and white rice.

"I do not need substance. I am merely not hungry. What I need my dear, Watson, is a case!" He then went back to pacing in front of the table as John idly picked at the orange chicken and rice.

"Sherlock, when was the last time you had a decent meal? I haven't seen you eat anything more than a biscuit or crumpet in weeks!" John said hastily, "Now, stop with this rubbish of not needing to eat. Come on now," John, always the worrying, motherly type over him. It made Sherlock smile on the inside to know someone cared for him like he did.

To be honest, Sherlock could feel the hunger deep in his stomach, the rumbling and grumbling, telling him he did need to eat. "Fine," he sighed out with defeat as he settled down and took two huge bites, and chewed as he watched for John's approving nod. John smiled fondly around his food and kept eating in their comfortable silence. Sherlock ate about half of his meal, a normal thing for him, before he stood "I am going out, don't wait up." He stated calmly as he grabbed his signature wool jacket with the flipped collar. This was becoming a reoccurring thing with him, leaving and not returning sometimes for a day or two.

"Out? It is 9 pm on a Tuesday night, and its raining. Why do you feel the need to go out?" John asked, a bit perplexed.

"Do not ask such funny little things, John. I need to go, out. Get some sleep, don't wait up" At that, the detective had grabbed his things and was out the door in a flash. John sighed, a bit worried on what he could be doing.

Unbeknownst to him, Sherlock had picked up a nasty little habit. A habit he had formed long before he met John, and had just gotten over when they were introduced. Mycroft was partially to blame for them living together, though Sherlock could not complain. John dealt with the strange quirks, his experiments, not talking for days on end, and the need to play the violin at all hours of the night.

Sherlock's body was itching, itching for that release and pleasure he got from the sensation of drugs. Thankfully, he had a few contacts still in the business and was able to score some, normally for cheap or even free depending on if they wanted to utilize his certain set of "skills". Sherlock soon made it to the small, run down strip club where he normally got his stash. It wasn't exactly a place he liked to frequent but beggars could not be choosers.

Once inside, he moved swiftly to the office and opened the door, ignoring the strung out stripper between the man's legs, behind the desk. "Hello, Stephen." Sherlock said with a cool tone. The male smirked as he sat forward, shooing the girl away as she got up, cleaning herself off as she moved out the door. "You are becoming more frequent. This is the third time in two weeks, Holmes. What happened to the last bit I gave you?"

"What do you think? Now, you still owe me an 8-ball." Sherlock said casually.

"Oh yes, I remember." The strip bar owner replied as he pulled out the small bag and tossed it to Sherlock, who caught it rather easily. "Do you need a room?" Sherlock shook his head and smirked as he walked out without another word. Normally, he would take a back room and do a few lines. Sometimes, he felt the need to shoot it as well. Tonight though, he felt it best to just take it home and do a few rounds in his barely used bedroom. Plus, he knew it would make John happy to know he wasn't out all night and actually came back at a decent hour.

Back at the flat, the minute Sherlock had left, John had called Mycroft. Now, he normally didn't like working with the older Holmes but he was starting to worry about Sherlock's erratic behavior, or at least, more erratic than normal.

"Yes, Mycroft its John Watson. I am a little worried about Sherlock. We haven't had a case in months and he's been crawling up the walls like a caged animal. More or less. He has been gone for days sometimes. I don't know what he is doing and he won't talk to me." Watson said into the receiver, having not even waited for a proper hello.

"Gone for days?" Mycroft said. "When does he leave?"

"Normally at night." John answered back. Mycroft sat back in his chair and pondered. Drugs. That was the only explanation; especially if he was gone for days and left at night. "How does he act when he comes home Watson? Giddy? Hyper?" He asked curiously.

John blinked and thought for a minute or two, "Sometimes he comes back and is more agitated, and others he's giddy and talking a lot about, really anything." He thought carefully. "Normally, when he comes back he refuses to eat for days, which is normal, but more so. He refuses to sleep and once he sat and watched a whole documentary on the telly." He commented. "Very erratic, I have to force him to eat, and bathe, and even dress on most occasions. I get tired of seeing him walking around in just a sheet. More than once he has given Mrs. Hudson a scare."

"I see, and did he leave tonight?" Mycroft was slowly starting to form things in his head and it was not a pretty sight. "Yeah, he left about ten minutes ago and told me not to wait up." John replied casually.4

Mycroft sighed as he shook his head "When he gets back, do not let him leave and please send me a message. I need to have a chat with my little brother and I rather he not know." After the confirmation John would do as he asked, they hung up and John sighed softly.

Mycroft was seething slightly, his hands shaking as he thought about the years it took to get his brother clean. All the money, the rehab, and everything he had done. He knew his brother got bored easily but to go right back to drugs? Granted, he had to admit in the last year and a half, especially since the doctor was around his brother was doing a lot better. There hadn't been any relapses and he seemed to be doing well health wise. Taking care of himself, and doing the things he needed to do on a daily basis, that Mycroft had fought for years to make sure his overtly intelligent brother did. John seemed to had come in and taken over that role, and quite easily had Sherlock doing what was needed to be done with little to no qualms.

No sooner had John put away the food, and was relaxing to watch the telly when Sherlock burst in. "Honey I'm home!" He said and then started to laugh. _Now that was incredibly different. _John thought to himself with a frown. "What happened to don't wait up?" He asked in a miffed tone.

"Oh now now, dear Watson, I am home. That is all that matters. Please, do not worry I am going up to my room. See you in the morning." Sherlock hung his jacket up and took the stairs two at a time to head to his bedroom. John shook his head and furrowed his brow together as he sat in front of the telly. Now, he really couldn't concentrate on what was going on, nor did he really care.

Sherlock giddily started to sit everything up. He had a small ottoman on his room that he had laid a plate down on. After that, he went to pouring a few lines of the white substance onto it and started to cut it with a razor. He hummed idly as he smiled half-heartedly. A small part of his mind knew he shouldn't be doing this, but the nicotine patches just weren't doing it anymore for him. A sigh escaped his lips as he rolled up a piece of paper and bent down, quickly snorting two of the four lines he had laid out. Once the cocaine hit his system, he was seeing stars and he smiled as he sighed and lay back on the bed. His mind was running, worse than ever but for some reason he could think more clearly. Or at least that is what he always thought. With the drugs in his system, the detective could always feel, and think of things vividly.

After who knows how long, John had decided he just was going to go to bed. He could hear movement and rustling in Sherlock's room so he knew for a fact the male was not asleep. In fact, John didn't know when the last time was taht Sherlock got more than an hour of sleep. Slowly, he stood and turned the telly off before going up the stairs to say goodnight and to see if he needed or wanted anything. "Sherlock, I am going to bed do you want anything? Maybe some tea or the rest of your food?" He asked, knocking slightly. The knock though, had the door opening slowly. It seemed in his haste, Sherlock hadn't shut and locked his door properly. As the door swung open, John looked in; just in time to see Sherlock snorting the last line of cocaine.

"Sherlock, what in the bloody hell!"

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! please leave feedback I love it! BTW All the chapters will be named after songs that pertain or I think fit to the chapter itself. You can find my playlist right here: watch?v=_Qr7_eFQuI&list=PLh6i-lGPDMT1a3OiNxfRoQG7FZRfZ0jHD Next chapter will be called Death of Me thanks again!


	2. Death of Me

Chapter 2 – Death of me

_I should have seen those signs all around me_

_But I was comfortable inside these wounds_

_So go ahead and take another piece of me, now_

_While we all bow down to you_

"Sherlock What in the bloody hell!" The doctor all but shouted as he stood outside of the room. The ever oblivious detective just giggled in that cocaine haze sort of way. "Oi, Watson, come to join?" He asked as he waved his hand for John to enter.

"Join? Are you absurd!? What do you think you are doing with drugs!" John said as he walked in and grabbed up the small bag of left over cocaine. Sherlock was too fuzzy to realize until it was too late, but John was out the door and dumping it down the drain. "H-hey that was mine! I worked real hard to get that!" He stumbled as he stood, trying to get his footing; knocking over the ottoman in the process. "Well, not anymore now is it?" John asked as he crossed his arms. "Drugs Sherlock? You of all people! I just, I can't believe-" At that moment, a sharp knock was heard down the stairs, along with the buzzer. It was nearing close to 11 pm and he couldn't fathom who would be at the door this time of night. Ignoring it, he went back to chewing the detective out.

Unbeknownst to them, it was Mycroft, Sherlock's ever worrisome older brother. Mrs. Hudson had let him in and he quickly walked up the stairs and right into the midst of the small quarrel. "Drugs! These don't help your case they muddle your brain not to mention the effects they have on you!" John was attempting to give a lecture as Sherlock grabbed his arms and threw him rather roughly against the wall. "Effects? Do you not think I know of the effects of drugs? Dear little Watson, I did this for years before I met you. Why do you think my brother of all people decided I needed a flatmate? For convenience? No! So I wouldn't relapse. You don't get why I take these and you are being a mewling quim!" He snapped, anger was amidst in the ice blue eyes as he stared down at the smaller, yet older male. His strength was twice what it normally was thanks to the drugs.

Of course, Sherlock wasn't exactly a weakling, just thin and lanky. He lifted a hand and was ready to strike the doctor when a gloved hand grabbed his. Mycroft squeezed roughly and pulled Sherlock off, making the younger male topple to the floor. "Dear brother, I thought I told you what would happen if your drug use got out of hand again? I am glad the doctor here called me when he did."

Watson sputtered for a second, still taken a back that Sherlock had raised a fist in pure anger at him. No matter the fighting, they never went to blows."I-I-I how did-did you know to come here?" He asked curiously as Mycroft turned and smiled gently. "I went to all the usual places Sherlock used to get his drugs. I have kept tabs on them just on the up chance my brother decided to return to doing this. I deduced that by chance, when he had gotten the drugs but did not stay that he had come home. On checking my security cameras, I saw him return to 221b baker street approximately one hour ago. I came as fast as I could, really I did." He said in that snide voice that made both, Sherlock and John flinch slightly. Sherlock was furious, he saw red as he stood and charged at his older brother. Mycroft easily disabled him with an arm lock. The ever calm older Holmes smiled at his brother "really now? Do you think you can take me little brother?" He asked in his ear as Sherlock growled and fought. John had no idea what to do but stand there and stare at the two Holmes brothers as they tangoed in the bedroom. Soon enough, Mycroft had Sherlock subdued and he settled on the bed, rubbing his nose slightly.

"Now, if I have to, I will place people on you Sherlock. So, if you leave or do anything of the sort you will be followed and watched. If you cannot contain his drug addiction I will have you thrown right back into rehab." Mycroft stated. Sherlock sneered "I refuse to go back to one of those god forsaken places where they try to pick my brain apart! I know exactly what they want to hear I will be out before you know it anyway brother." He snapped as he glared under the curly brown bangs of his hair. Mycroft smiled, "not if I pay them off you won't. Now, contain the drug addiction. I assume your doctor will keep close tabs on you?"

Watson shook his head, "I do have a job you know, at the clinic. I can't just up and not go to work they need me!" He said calmly and Mycroft shrugged, "what if I pay you double they are paying you to stay home and watch him? At least until he gets all this out of his system, and really brother, why didn't you come to me when you needed a case this badly? I could have had a dozen cases for you."

"Fuck you, Mycroft." Sherlock snarled as Mycroft smiled and patted John's shoulder. "Watch him, look for a transaction by tomorrow sometime of your pay for a month. I will talk to the clinic myself on your behalf, goodnight doctor, brother." At that, the older male was out the door and gone. John just stared curiously at Sherlock who was still grumbling, though the euphoric high was slowly coming off of him. "Well, that was a fun evening now wasn't it?" John snapped as he stilled looked upon his flatmate. "I am going nuts in this place when I am not working and now your brother has hired me as a nanny for you! I can't say no either I know it needs to be done!" He gave an exasperated sigh and stomped out of the room. Sherlock stood and slammed his door without a word.

"Quietly, John peaked out the door and looked around. Sure enough, two men were standing there and he frowned. At least he knew that Sherlock would not be able to waltz right out and go get more of the wretched substance. Though, he also knew that meant the detective would be going through withdrawals which he had seen plenty of times; on and off the battlefields. A rough few days were a head and he wasn't going to enjoy it one bit. Checking the medicine cabniets, he was sure he had everything they may need to help him go through the withdrawals without going to a clinic or hospital, which was not the best idea with how famous they both had become.

John could see the headlines now: Genius Consultant Detective a Druggie! He shook his head and shivered at the thought. Sighing, the male decided it was best he retire for the night and hope tomorrow would be a better day.


End file.
